


A better reality

by yallpacino



Category: True Detective
Genre: Fluff without Plot, Gift Fic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, post-carcosa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 07:49:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5531567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yallpacino/pseuds/yallpacino
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Waking up from a nightmare doesn't mean a worse reality anymore. It means finding themselves next to someone they fully trust, and would give their lives for - someone they love. Marty and Rust are grateful for sharing this feeling and they try to show it to each other on their own, unique ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A better reality

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blackeyedblonde](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackeyedblonde/gifts).



> I would like to wish a peaceful, wonderful holiday to you, dear Hannah!!! You inspired and encouraged me with your works a lot, and basically got me through a stressful time, unknowingly. I'd like to say a big big thank you with this little nothing I made for you!! You are a really great person and you deserve a lot of love so here it is! (Actually this is my first work after a huge block of being unproductive and uninspired so I hope that it's all good)

Nightmares only visit them occasionally nowadays. However when the creatures of the past are present, they are chased away solely by each other. 

When Marty wakes up screaming in terror, from the dreams reminding him clearly of a bleeding Rust laying on hard concrete, warm arms always pull him closer to a warmer body. Rust hugs him closely, and kisses him sweetly, reassuring him that the past they're trying to forget is far gone. It's only the two of them now, so everything is okay.

When Rust gets haunted by the ghosts of his unfading memories, it's a bit different. When it happens, it always leaves cold sweat traveling down his back, makes him shiver more than the freezing, sleepless nights, still up in Alaska, and makes him wake up like he would never want to sleep again. But there's always a source of comfort right next to him. Marty can sense when there's something wrong and these days Rust doesn't try to deny it.

This is why Marty always places his hand on Rust's heart, and Rust's hand on his, to remind themselves of what the reality is. That their hearts wouldn't be beating if they wouldn't have been together that summer night in 2012. Marty would always say something along the lines of 'we both made it out alive, consider this a fucking miracle, but we have'. And Rust would always shake his head, maybe in disbelief, or disagreement, but he always realises that he's grateful when he thinks about it.

Rust has always believed in fate. He still thinks that everything that happens to them is what they deserve, that it is all written in book, hidden at an abandoned attic and will never be found. It always had, always is, always will be like this. He believes that he had to pay for his mother's sins. But at what price... He didn't dare to sleep after Sofia's death, however the nightmares still appeared in any shape and form. Anytime, especially the least unexpected times.

But here he is now, looking through a dusty window at his old self. His old self that knew he needed to move on but refused to. His old self that would spend countless nights crying silently, hurting himself so much he could feel his soul shatter even more. But now he could say that it's only an unforgettable memory of a past life. He's not seeing Crash anymore. He supposes that might be because the nights spent injecting heroin in his veins, or snorting crystal meth has made Crash himself forget about it instantly. He is rather happy about the fact that another character doesn't make an appearance in his nightmares; he has enough problems dealing with his other regulars.

Although he knows that lifetime has ended, knows that the wounds are healed, he also knows that the scars will be constant reminders of the fact that he lived and died. 

He woke up to a new era where Marty mended his broken bones, stitched up his bleeding wounds and showed him a new perspective that kept him alive. Marty knows Rust can't be fixed, his broken pieces and weathered edges will never be as good as new anymore. But he gives him a new purpose that keeps him glued together. 

This morning, Marty opens his eyes to find Rust sleeping soundly next to him. His bare back turned to him, the lines of his shoulder blades and spines well defined. Marty is stuck between wanting to touch him, feel him with his warm fingertips, and wanting to leave this beautiful sight undisturbed. 

These are the moments when Marty has time to think peacefully. Only because this setting means home to him and it eases his mind so much he realises he doesn't want these slow mornings to end. 

He realises that he has finally found someone he can be happy with again. Because he really is happy now and fucking it all up this time is not an option. Marty is willing to admit to himself that he is more afraid of losing Rust than he's afraid of every other pointless, little or deadly thing. He'd rather go through Carcosa a thousand times more, from finding Dora Lange's cold, unholy body on that chilly January day, to start the series of all these events that kept him up at night, to finish it with rage, panic and adrenaline pumping in his veins as discovering every dark corners of that temple he doesn't seem to forget. He'd go through it again and again and again just to make sure that Rust is alright. And even though he thinks that he's not worth the same, he knows that Rust would do it for him too.

He is certainly sure about that, otherwise he wouldn't be gazing down the golden band on his third finger, that glints in the morning light if he angles it right.

As he listens to muffled noises of cars gliding on the drying road outside, beginning to count the constellation of freckles on Rust's lightly scarred shoulders, his companion sighs awake and shifts in their spacey bed. He turns around slowly after rubbing his eyes open, and gets greeted by a smiling Marty.

"Good morning" Marty says while he runs his palm briefly on Rust's inked forearm. They lock eyes for a short second, two blues melting together, then Marty's gaze shifts on the other man's parted lips. "You slept well?"

"Mornin'. Haven't slept this good in a while" Rust answers, voice still hoarse from sleep. He grabs Marty's left hand and holds it to his, to gently thumb across the shiny ring on his finger. 

Marty shifts closer to him, intertwining their legs and wrapping an arm around Rust's neck. Things come naturally after this. Rust leans in to share a soft kiss with Marty, which obviously gets returned by his husband, as they move closer even more. Marty deepens the kiss as he feels Rust's lips curl up slightly. 

As they part to take a breath, Marty's hand travel up to feel Rust's soft hair and cups his skull to have a better look in his eyes. His eyes that hide the mysteries of the seven seas, but all familiar with Marty's own pair of blue sky. 

"You know Rust, I've been thinkin' this morning" he says, warm breath ghosting over Rust's wet lips. 

"Didn't know you could do that" he answers with a playful smile and lets out a quiet laugh. 

Marty pouts and shifts away slightly to emphasise his exaggerated loss "Shut up or I won't tell you."

"What a threat" Rust replies with a wider smile that Marty just loves so much, and places a quick kiss on his partner's stubbly cheek.

"Damn it man, you just killed the mood here." Comments Marty, however he is trying hard to hide his obvious smile that proves the opposite of his tone. 

"Go on Marty" Rust reaches up to slide a hand under the neck of Marty's shirt, caressing the white scars there, the ones that will always mark where Rust will press his softest kisses on.

Marty leans in the touch and finally stops hiding his adorably crooked smile. "You know that you're so fucking important to me, right?" He tells Rust as a constant reminder, failing to keep an eye contact this time. Instead he studies, for not even the first time, the muscular arm that is still in contact with his collarbone "I was just thinking that I'd go through hell and back to have all this."

"Marty, you never have to, I'm here" Rust says as he wraps an arm around Marty's waist firmly and places his head on his chest. He can feel Marty's breath and pulse fasten up for a second, then everything becomes the usual. That usual, good routine between them, that they both cling to and hope it will never break.

Marty starts to rub gentle circles on Rust's back, needing to feel that this is the reality. They lay there together, sharing unspoken words to express how thankful they are for this. Their eyes close shut for long moments, but never falling asleep. Their left hands find each other in the end, locking their fingers and knocking their rings together.

"I love you" Rust murmurs into Marty's shirt, almost silently to not to disturb their own peace. 

Marty moves his hand to lift Rust's chin up and whispers a soft "I love you too" against his lips before they collide into another sweet kiss.


End file.
